


Stargazers

by Hornet394



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Space, Combeferre as a scientist, Courfeyrac as a lawyer, Drabble Collection, Enjolras is a records manager, Jehan Grantaire and Feuilly harvest clouds, M/M, Marius is an archivist, Outer Space, Slow Build, and Parnasse is a farmer, marius being marius, oh and jvj runs the place while javert circles him like a vulture as usual, that's the whole fic basically its just marius vibing, there is plot though!, yep parnasse is a farmer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23857405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hornet394/pseuds/Hornet394
Summary: Stella Novus, the First Star. A tiny colony thousands of lightyears away from Earth. Home to sprawling Stardrop farms and skies full of clouds and Islosaurs. Marius doesn't know any more beyond this, really. But anywhere that his grandfather could not reach would do. Anywhere would do.(A drabble series, with plot, set in space.)
Relationships: Combeferre/Éponine Thénardier, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta, Montparnasse/Jean Prouvaire, and bahorel and feuilly, haven't decided what to do with marius courf and cosette
Kudos: 4





	1. pt. 0. the first star

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed.

Stella Novus, the First Star. That’s not the full extent of what Marius knows about the colony, but these five words are the only words he manages to blurt out to the immigration officer. 

The officer opens his mouth and closes it again. “That’s not exactly a ‘purpose of visit’, buddy.” The man says apologetically. Marius hasn’t slept for the whole 15 hours of travel, too tense and paranoid that his grandfather would somehow materialize on the ship and drag him back to Earth. He stares at the officer helplessly.

“Okay,” The officer grimaces and looks behind Marius. Marius had waited for the ship to clear out before joining the queue, so he’s far back enough that there’s only a few stragglers lining up behind him.

“Alright, do you have a work visa?” The officer asks, flipping through the pages of his passport. “Oh wait. Stupid question. Sorry.” He rubs the back of his head and looks up at Marius again, an odd look in his eyes. Marius just bites his lip and looks at the smooth counter surface. It’s a faux-marble, grey and easy on the eyes, reflecting the starless night sky of Stella Novus as it shines through the viewing glass of the station. There’s three moons, varying sizes and shades of red. He’s never seen the sky before, never on Earth, and least of all in the Mainland.

“Your passport will let you stay for a month, Baron Pontmercy,” The officer clears his throat, “Starxa is always looking for work, there’s a recruitment officer in the terminal building right now. His name is Courfeyrac.”

Marius’ throat is dry and parched. “Thank you.” He mumbles. “Just Marius, please.” He bends down slightly to pick up his overpacked rucksack and slings it across his shoulder, ignoring the wincing pain that comes with it.

The officer grins at him, far too cheery given the hour of night. “Best of luck, just Marius,” He calls after him as Marius drags his suitcase behind him, heading down towards the terminal building.

There’s a brief moment where he’s underneath the sky with nothing in between them, but then the security guards are ushering him forwards into the well-lit building in front of him. It’s a remarkably tiny building for a transport hub, but Stella Novus is a tiny colony. It’s so tiny that it’s barely larger than a dot on galactic maps, and just a tiny square on its own system’s map. It’s why Marius chose it.

The terminal is lit with bright artificial lighting, the building’s design and colour palette depressingly uniform, but at least it’s easy on the eyes. There’s a fountain to the left, the logo of Starxa displayed above it. To the right are a few rows of benches, all coloured an offensive light blue. Consoles sit in front of it, with words of “Food! Housing! Transport!” flashing across their screens.

Someone bumps into his suitcase from behind, and he whirls around in panic. The back of his heel gets caught on the wheel and he stumbles forward, the strap of his bag lurching around his shoulder to wrap around his neck.

Before he chokes to death there’s someone grabbing him by the arm, and his bag hits someone’s chest.

“God, what do you have in your bag? Bricks?” His saviour has an easy laugh, helping Marius back onto his feet. Marius blinks uncertainly at the stranger, rubbing at his neck where the strap had strangled him briefly. “Sorry.” He repeats, looking to his shoes, too aware that they’re still clearly a few tiers too expensive for this border colony.

The man clears his throat, and Marius looks back up at him. The man has short, curly hair, looking like a dark brown under the strong light, and his smile is absolutely blinding. He has a neon green tracksuit jacket over a simple suit and tie ensemble, the Starxa logo emblazoned on the right chest. “I’m Courfeyrac.” The man says, “You look like you need a hug. Do you want a hug?”

Marius gapes at him. Courfeyrac just raises an eyebrow and holds out his arms expectantly. “I...” Marius stutters out, “I really can’t...” He licks his dry lips nervously.

Courfeyrac cocks his head to one side, letting his arms drop. “Would something else help?” He asks in the same cheerful tone. Marius stares at him helplessly. How to answer a question that not even Marius himself knew the answer to? He didn’t come to Stella Novus for answers, not exactly. In front of him Courfeyrac waits patiently.

In Stella Novus, even time passes by more slowly.

“I need a job,” He hears himself say, “And a place to sleep.”

If anything, Courfeyrac’s smile gets even more infectious. “Follow me.” He simply says, taking Marius’ suitcase from him, “We’ll find you a home here.”

Marius finds himself answering Courfeyrac’s smile, and he follows after the other man obediently like a duckling. Perhaps it’s the lack of sleep, or food, or perhaps it’s a crash from the last few days of tensions, of arguments, of escapes - a strange sense of serenity washes over Marius. He’s safe here, thousands of lightyears away from Earth. His grandfather had thought that Marius wasn’t brave enough to step out of the Mainlands, had thought that Marius was content with living in their glass house in their corner of a tiny planet. 

Well. Here Marius is. 

As soon as he steps out of the terminal building a chill washes over him, but it’s only a slight breeze, as if to welcome him to the colony. The more overwhelming part is the smell of fresh air - they fill his lungs and he feels like he’s going to swell up and float away into the quiet, quiet night sky of Stella Novus, the First Star.


	2. pt.1 tiny speck of dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras is prone to working late hours, but it'll lead him to good company.

Light suddenly floods the dark room, and Enjolras’ head snaps up in alarm. Combeferre stands by the window silently, staring out into the night sky. Combeferre had always hid his tendency for dramatic flair well, but Enjolras seems to bring out the worst in him.

“Was I supposed to meet you for something?” Enjolras asks, taking off his glasses and rubbing at his tired eyes, as he frantically tries to recall his non-work schedule for the day. The words throw themselves at his brain in a jumble.

“Stop rubbing.” Combeferre reminds offhandedly, turning away from the window to perch at the edge of Enjolras’ desk. “And before you panic, no, you don’t have any plans tonight. I just passed by and saw that you forgot to turn on the lights, again. You really need to get your day-night regulator replaced.”

Enjolras blinks at his monitor screen. Now that his concentration is broken, he can barely make sense of the tables in front of him. “Sorry, I keep forgetting to send an email down,” He sighs, putting his glasses back on, “I have no idea what on earth was going through the last archivist’s mind. Least he could do was actually do his job before fucking off to another planet.”

Combeferre frowns and leans over to look at the monitor, but Enjolras can see on his face that he’s completely clueless at what’s going on. Not that Enjolras is faring any better. “I thought you asked Valjean to put out feelers for an archivist?” Combeferre frowns.

“Yeah, but he said it’ll likely take time,” Enjolras sighs, “You know the drill. You need qualifications to do the job, but when there’s a grand total of three posts available in the colony, no one wants to put the money and time to do it.”

Combeferre makes a sympathetic noise. He’d suggest asking Floreal for help, but Floreal’s already running between CloudCog and Apothecure, there’s no way she’d be able to give more time to Starxa. “Come on,” He says instead, “Let’s go to Chetta’s and eat some proper food.”

“What about the Musain?” Enjolras asks innocently, “I’m craving a bit of pie.” Combeferre leans over and takes Enjolras’ glasses off his face, neatly putting them into their case. “I’m not stupid enough to let you get more coffee.” Combeferre deadpans. “You are going straight to sleep after dinner, you know they don’t pay you for voluntary overtime.”

Enjolras pouts, but Combeferre has a heart of steel and ignores it, just stares at Enjolras until he caves and starts putting his things back into his bag. “See if I bring you coffee when you’re holed up in the lab next time.” Enjolras scowls without heat.

They nod goodbye to the security guard as Enjolras locks up, and they make their way out of the building. “Any blooms today?” Enjolras asks as they walk towards Chetta’s. “Not my Division, no,” Combeferre shakes his head, “But Montparnasse’s got a pretty big yield. They’re probably still in there soothing their Stardrops. I wish Bamatabois would pull his head out of his ass for once and actually ask Montparnasse for advice, instead of being pointlessly jealous of Montparnasse having the Queen under his care. I’m glad he’s getting transferred soon.”

Enjolras makes a soft noise of sympathy. He doesn’t work much with the Stargroomer Divisions directly, but he’s heard enough from Combeferre and Courfeyrac. “How about your research?” He asks as they turn the corner. Like most buildings in the colony, the Corinthe is lit up like a beacon, bright and reassuring in the suffocating darkness of Stella Novus’ night time. They stand in line for a bit, but are soon waved forward by one of Musichetta’s girls. The rest of the patrons can grumble all they like, but all of the amis pooled in money to get the Corinthe up and running. Even though Enjolras and Courfeyrac arrived after the restaurant was already up, they’ve put their money in for shares and for the new open bar on the second floor, so he’s only slightly guilty at cutting the line.

Combeferre is quietly but no less enthusiastically telling him about the spectrum of emotions Stardrops are believed to exhibit when Jehan, Grantaire, and Feuilly literally pile into the backroom Musichetta converted from storage for them. 

Grantaire’s at the bottom - perhaps deliberately? Enjolras thinks. Grantaire is gentle like that sometimes, when he thinks no one is looking - and Feuilly’s hand is trapped between his chest and Jehan’s skirt.

“What’s the occasion, gentlemen?” Combeferre smiles, dragging another chair over to their table so it can sit five. “We’re setting sail next week!” Jehan exclaims loudly, dashing over to burrow themselves into Combeferre’s lap. Combeferre’s wheely chair rolls back a good distance - wheely chairs are the only spare chairs CloudCog can offer, alright - but Enjolras catches them before the chair hits the wall. 

Of course, the next second Jehan is diving into his lap to give him a massive hug and sloppy kiss on the cheek, before they bound back to one of the empty chairs. “That’s great!” Combeferre leans in, “I hope you have a safe trip and a good yield.” Enjolras repeats the customary blessing, and all three cloudcatchers beam at them. Grantaire’s smile is so wide and disarming, so genuine and just so much that Enjolras has to look away to stop an unknown heat from rising up to his face.

When the trio goes out to order food, Combeferre stares at Enjolras and raises his eyebrows. “Shut up.” Enjolras mutters, flushing.

After they come back with food, Combeferre draws Jehan and Feuilly’s attention with questions about their plants and woodworking, leaving Grantaire and Enjolras sitting side by side with their food.

“So-”

“How-”

They both shut up. Enjolras is the first to clear his throat, pushing the last remaining peas around with his spoon. “So you’ll be gone for a week?”

“Yeah,” Grantaire says, a bit warily. Enjolras and Grantaire haven’t spent much time together, and there’s a reason. When Enjolras and Courfeyrac had first arrived at the colony and at Les Amis’ meetings, he hadn’t gotten along with Grantaire at all. (Combeferre would say this was an understatement, but Enjolras digresses.)

Grantaire disagrees with all the ideals Enjolras holds true, was vocal about it, and Enjolras lacks any of Combeferre’s tact. A few months down the line they can more or less exist in the same room without arguing, perhaps even crack a few jokes, but they’ve never really spent time together the way Enjolras wants.

“We had a really good yield last time, so we thought we’d take advantage and get another harvest in before winter sets in for the Islosaurs.” At Enjolras’ confused look, Grantaire quickly adds, “Sorry, forgot that you’re not native. This will be your first proper winter with us, won’t it? Yours and Courf’s. The outer atmosphere gets chilly for about two months, and Islosaurs go into hibernation and stop producing their shit for us to collect. We won’t sail in these two months to not disturb them, and the clouds also have time to replenish themselves before we start the next harvesting season. In one of my first voyages we came across a Islosaur who fancied an early hibernation...”

Grantaire's hands begins to gesticulate as he goes into the story, relaxing into his chair. A small smile makes its way up Enjolras’ face and he too relaxes, letting Grantaire’s story take him away up into the sky, into the clouds and the world above.


	3. sunshine

CloudCog and the Musain are covered with R’s art and Jehan’s Earth plants. Guelemer is the only other person Jehan entrusts with their Earth imports, and there’s only that much art Grantaire can sell or keep in their house. the Musain’s plants are under Guelemer’s care, and CloudCog’s plants are Jehan’s responsibility.

The staff are used to them flitting in and out during office hours, climbing over people’s file cabinets to reach the plants hidden behind their desks. Clients stare at them in shock and confusion when they walk into the Marketing Office barefoot, watering can in hand.

Unfortunately, to Jehan’s displeasure, most of CloudCog is allocated to Treatment, and plants don’t sit well with expensive equipment intended for clouds and Islosaur excrement. Jehan spent their childhood on Earth, bordering the Ocean, and plants have always been a staple in their life. When their parents moved to Stella Novus and started CloudCog, they’d brought many seeds with them, and they had a garden at the back for Jehan and their mother.

What they hadn’t realised was that Islosaur excrement was toxic to non-Stella Novian plants - of course, at then they hadn’t even realised that Islosaurs existed, and Jehan’s father would have the shock of his life when he first set sail and rammed straight into one of them - and they’d lost about a third of the seeds.

According to colonial law, the local ecosystem cannot be tampered with, so all of Jehan’s beloved plants from Earth have to stay in insulated planters. Over time, however, they had grown to love the plants native to Stella Novus as well.

Montparnasse had smuggled them into the Starxa farms once. He’d made them promise not to tell anyone, and they’d complied. They’d told no one but him and their own poems about how astounding the Queen looked, how regal and beautiful she was.

Of course, not to say that the rest of the Stardrops hadn’t looked absolutely amazing. They littered the fields like stars in the sky, each illuminating and unique, swaying gently in the artificial breeze. “Can I touch the Queen?” They had asked Montparnasse, after they had recovered from his awe. Montparnasse had hesitated, uncertainty in his eyes for once, but had nodded slowly. He’d led them by their hand through the fields, and they’d watch as he subtly nudged every single one of the Stardrops along the way. Montparnasse cares little for human company, but his Stardrops are his pride and joy, and Jehan is more than honoured that Montparnasse chose to share this with them.

They wonder what Montparnasse had felt, when he had first been brought to Starxa. He must’ve been just about 10, 11 - even now he’s barely a man, even though he holds himself much older than he actually is. This is a man who takes the utmost care of his appearance, almost fanatically. Yet he’s worked amongst the Stardrops for 8 years, in bulky boots and gloves, dealing with Islosaur excrement on a daily basis. What could ask him of such a great sacrifice? Jehan had always been curious.

A Stardrop reaches about Jehan’s waist, but the Queen looms over Jehan, easily twice their height. Stardrops look no different from plants, but just being among them makes Jehan had felt like they were all looking at them, sensing their presence. Montparnasse had rested a hand on the Queen’s petals. “She won’t talk to you,” He murmured to Jehan, “But she allows you to touch her. Just be gentle.”

Jehan let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding in. “Thank you,” They had told her sincerely. Montparnasse smiled lightly but doesn’t say anything.

They touched the base of one of her petals, first. It had an eerie glow to it, but felt paper-thin and fragile underneath their hands. The Queen hadn’t spoken to them, like Montparnasse had said, but they think that they had felt life thrumming underneath their hands, the Queen’s consciousness watching them.

They’ve heard the stories before, of course. Humans drowned in acid, flayed alive, swallowed whole for stumbling upon wild Stardrops. There’s a reason why the planet is connected by teleporters instead of any other transport. It’s remarkable, really, that Jehan could have stood there, in the middle of a field of Stardrops.

Then Montparnasse is gently touching his hand, taking it away from the Queen. “She needs rest,” He explains, “Come on.”

Jehan pouts a little, but relents and steps away. “She’s addicting.” They say aloud, turning their wrist to lace their fingers with Montparnasse’s. A self-satisfied expression curls up on his face, and his hold is firm as he leads them up to a nearby control room balcony that gives a perfect view of the farm underneath.

Jehan remembers to give him a kiss before sitting down cross-legged on the metal surface, taking their notebook out to scribble down lines that had been circling in their heads. “The Queen really likes you.” They tell Montparnasse, who’s sitting down next to them.

He raises a dubious eyebrow. “And how do you know that?”

Jehan hums. “Just a feeling.”

“Well, she better.” Montparnasse snorts. “I spend so much time massaging her with shit everyday.”

Jehan just laughs, leaning against Montparnasse’s side gently. He stiffens reflexively, but shifts to accommodate them and even slumps a little against them. Jehan counts that as a victory. Baby steps, when it comes to Montparnasse.

“You’re good to her.” They comment, slowly sketching out the Queen on the pages. They’re no Grantaire, but it’s enough to capture the essence of what Jehan is allowed to witness. Montparnasse buries his nose in their hair, refusing to respond.

They sit there for what feels like hours, Jehan’s notebook filled with sketches and words and phrases. Half of them are devoted to the sight in front of him, the Stardrops swaying to their own lullaby. The other half are dedicated to the steady presence by their side.

**Author's Note:**

> (Trying very hard to slip the "i have come to sleep with you" line in)
> 
> come follow me on twitter @hornet394 :) please leaves kudos/comments if you liked this uwu I'll probs update every few days
> 
> stay home and stay safe, wash your hands and stay hydrated, the longer we stay home the quicker we can get out of this lockdown!


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